THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Three
By Christopher Leeson
Josette's next awakening hit her like a blast of cold water. Sunlight streamed through unfamiliar curtains, and the reality crashed down on her--this wasn't a bad dream. She was living the life of a blonde girl! Standing in front of the mirror, she ran trembling fingers through her hair, trying to steady her breathing. Trusting the instructions, hoping the next new moon would fix things, was the only option. But that meant enduring an entire month in silence, hiding the truth from everyone.
"How am I going to handle Josie's friends?" she whispered to her reflection. They'd have expectations, memories, inside jokes—none of which Josette could know. To succeed, she had to master every aspect of Josie’s existence—a monumental task.
After forcing herself through a shower, Josette stood dripping in front of Josie's closet, still wearing the now-damp baby doll nightgown. She needed real clothes, but even that simple task felt like surrender. To voluntarily put on girls’ clothes felt too much like agreeing to this scenario. With gritted teeth, she started searching for the most neutral items she could find--jeans, plain shirts, sneakers. But Josie's wardrobe had other ideas.
"Damn it," she muttered, pushing aside another ruffled top. Josie apparently had the fashion sense of Tiffany Malloy from Unhappily Ever After -- a super minx of calculated sex appeal and cunning manipulation.
The thought of the TV show sparked another worry. How did Loren get caught up in all of this? Had he somehow wished for this transformation? She remembered his frustration when the oil experiments failed to change the white mouse's sex. But what if the magic had worked? Josette believed Loren’s reaction to seeing a sex change would have scared him off.
But here she was, stuck in this body because Loren had applied the oil to himself. What made everything worse was, according to the instruction sheet, the oil user gained not just the appearance of his ideal of girlhood, but her tastes and feelings too.
And Loren's ideals had been shaped by fictional characters, not only Malloy but also her rival Sable O'Brien, the rich party girl who treated boys like disposable accessories.
After putting on the least flashy outfit she could assemble, Josette made her way downstairs. The smell of coffee and toast filled the kitchen, where her mother was already seated at the table, scrolling through her phone.
"Mom..." Josette stirred her cereal absently, working up the courage to ask what had been gnawing at her. "Do you ever wonder what it would've been like if I'd been born a boy instead?"
Mrs. Melford looked up from her coffee, surprise crossing her face. "Where did that come from?"
"Just thinking, I guess." Josette shrugged, trying to seem casual.
"Honey, if you're asking if I ever wished for a son instead of you—absolutely not." Her mother set down her phone, giving Josette her full attention. "I would have loved to give you a brother, but if I had to choose between you and some hypothetical son? I wouldn't change a thing."
Josette pushed her cereal around the bowl. “Had I been born a boy...” She quickly stopped, mindful of the warning not to mention the transformation. One slip and she'd be stuck in push-up bras and thong panties forever.
"If you had been born a boy," her mother whispered, "I'd love you exactly as much as I do now. Children are children, and they're all wonderful."
"That's not true!" Josette couldn't help pointing out. "Every criminal on the street used to be somebody's kid."
"Yes, but I believe most of them were brought up wrong." Her mother's face grew thoughtful. "It hurts children to grow up in broken homes."
"Don't we have a broken home?" The words slipped out before Josette could stop them.
Her mother's face softened with old pain. "Marrying your father was my life's biggest mistake - and my biggest lesson. I was young and crazy in love, blind to our differences. I went into marriage thinking divorce was impossible, but..."
She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. "I'm not blaming everything on your dad, though. We were both kids playing at being grown-ups. Anyone can fall madly in love at nineteen. It's not until your twenties that you start thinking straight."
Josette caught her reflection in the polished toaster, seeing unfamiliar blonde hair and delicate features. "Yeah," she sighed softly. "I guess that's usually how it goes."
The rest of breakfast passed in attempts to mine her mother casually for information about Josie’s childhood, but the conversation grew increasingly strained. Finally, her mother glanced at her watch and stood.
"I wish we could talk more, honey, but tomorrow's the church rummage sale and I'm on the committee. Want to come along? It could be a worthwhile distraction from whatever's bothering you."
"My anxieties are always with me," Josette said, then added quickly, "I've been reading about meditation. Maybe that will help."
"Meditation?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "That's new for you. I'm sorry I've been working such long hours lately. We need more time together."
"Yes, we do, Mom," Josette agreed quietly.
Less than an hour later, she found herself alone in the house. Josette welcomed this solitude; she required time to adjust to life as a girl. A large trunk in Josie's room had been calling to her all morning.
When she finally worked up the courage to look inside, she discovered a treasure trove of costume-party outfits from a risqué Halloween brand: Sexy Playboy Bunny, Sexy Princess Leia, Sexy Swashbuckler, and a Red Riding Hood outfit that would have any big, bad wolf's eyes popping out.
The sheer number of outfits was staggering. Josette ran her fingers over the fabric, wondering how many costume parties Josie could have possibly attended since puberty. Had she worn all these eye-catching outfits, or did she just collect them like some girls collected stuffed animals?
After closing the trunk, Josette pulled out the magical instruction sheet again, hands shaking slightly as she reread it word for word. A large question plagued her: Was the world unaltered except that Josette had replaced Loren? Or was this an entirely distinct reality, where countless lives had unfolded differently? She'd need to check a history book to be sure.
The instructions were crystal clear on several terrifying points. The transformed person had to avoid any further contact with the oil until the moon's next dark phase. A second application, while still transformed, would make the change permanent.
"Scary doesn't begin to cover it," Josette muttered.
And other ways would lead to becoming trapped in a female life indefinitely. Pregnancy would do it, but Josette would die before she went to bed with a boy. And if she told anyone about the transformation as a boy, the magic would stop working, so she couldn’t prove the existence of magic. If she told the truth in girl shape, the magic would doom her to permanent femininity. The instructions said she could only safely speak with others who had likewise been transformed by the oil. Fat chance of finding anyone else in that situation!
She felt so alone. She couldn't even tell her mom the truth. The article said the oil only changed boys into girls, which meant her mother could have no transformation experience to make her safe to confide in.
Josette flopped onto the bed, feeling more isolated than ever. The prospect of returning to school as a typical female student in just three weeks filled her with icy dread. How could she keep up this deception for so long?
“Keep it simple,” she told herself. Stay isolated. Avoid getting pulled into any of Josie's social circles where she could trip up in a thousand different ways.
She grabbed Josie's phone and checked past emails, wincing at the mounting messages from someone named Leah.
"Why is your phone off? Are you dying or something? If you're still alive, please, please answer me!"
Josette typed out a response, hoping to head off subjecting herself to a visit.
"Sorry! Still feeling awful. Mom says it's some super-contagious foreign flu that takes forever to get over, but people recover. Staying home all weekend. We'll see how I feel on Monday. Try to have fun without me!"
She silenced her phone to avoid further contact. With luck, Leah would spread the word and people would stop trying to check on her.
Next came her study of the photos stored on the phone. Various faces appeared with Josie - presumably her friends - but which one was Leah? Several of the girls were quite attractive and familiar-looking.
The yearbook provided answers. Josette paged through until she found the only Leah in their class. Recognition hit like a punch to the gut. As Loren, she'd seen that girl around school plenty of times—she was one of those untouchable popular girls who brushed off any guy below varsity athlete status. She was always hanging out with the letterman crowd. Becoming close to a cheerleader could have elevated Loren’s social status, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with the people labeled as nerds.
At the kitchen table later, enjoying a lunch of fried dough with butter and honey, Josette found her thoughts drifting to what girls wanted in guys. Men were straightforward individuals who prioritized a woman’s beauty over everything else.
Nevertheless, women sought more than just physical attractiveness in a man. They cared about things like the size of his allowance and how generous he was with buying gifts, show tickets, and lunches.
The afternoon slipped away in a haze of research and worry. Around five footsteps downstairs jolted Josette from her thoughts. She hurried down the stairs, an idea taking shape.
"Mom!"
Lynette Melford turned, surprised by her daughter's enthusiastic tone. "What is it, honey?"
"I want to visit grandma and grandpa! Just until school starts. I can pack tonight and drive there tomorrow."
"What's the sudden rush?"
Josette fought to keep her voice casual. “I want to have a good long, relaxing visit before school starts.”
"This seems very sudden. What brought this on?"
"I'm just... tired of all my friends' constant plans for parties and club trips. It's exhausting."
Her mother studied her face for a long moment. They should be pleased you’re coming.
"I'll start packing now!" Josette called over her shoulder, already heading for the stairs. She unenthusiastically packed Josie’s belongings, knowing that Loren’s favorites—sci-fi books and comics—were absent.
#
The drive to her grandparents' country house near Licksburg gave Josette too much time to think. By the time she pulled into their gravel driveway, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. But her grandmother Emma was already hurrying down the front steps, arms outstretched.
"Josie! Oh, we're so happy to see you!"
The warmth of her grandmother's embrace made Josette's throat tight. Her grandmother remembered her - or rather, she remembered Josie. Incredibly, the whole family had memories of a girl who had never really existed. "H-Hi Grams," she managed, her voice catching slightly.
"There's my princess!" Her grandfather Joseph appeared in the doorway, beaming. His bear hug lifted her off her feet. "Emma’s been cooking up a storm ever since you called."
The familiar coziness of their home wrapped around Josette as she followed them inside. Her grandparents bustled around her with their usual enthusiastic hospitality--fresh baked cookies, cold milk, rapid-fire updates about all the activities they had planned. Despite her anxiety, Josette felt herself relaxing. The countryside was always a comforting retreat for Loren.
That evening, after a dinner that could have fed twice their number, Emma showed Josette to the guest room. "We haven’t changed the guest room since your last visit," she said, smoothing the quilt on the bed. There are pajamas in the dresser. "Sleep well, pet."
The room had a simple layout--no overwhelming pink or frills. Josette donned silky floral pajamas from the drawer. At least they weren’t baby dolls.
The next couple of days settled into a routine. Her grandparents showered her with attention but seemed to sense when she needed space. They didn't press when she grew quiet or retreated to her room. But on the morning they announced they'd be gone for the day and something fluttered in Josette's chest—a sensation she couldn’t ignore.
As soon as their car disappeared down the driveway, she found herself drawn to the things she'd brought from home. Before she could catch herself and stop, she was experimenting with lipstick and powder, sliding into a party dress with a swishy skirt.
But her well-scrubbed face didn’t look quite right in it. Josette’s amateurish makeup attempt have her a streetwalker look, but she decided to leave bad enough alone.
She brought out her camera next, and she lost track of time taking selfies in many poses, tossing her hair, and blowing kisses at the lens. The high heels she'd brought from home proved as challenging as boys always supposed they were.
She tottered around the house, learning to balance her weight differently. Yet, having all her weight on the balls of her feet wasn’t a pleasant sensation. She wondered why women subjected themselves so needlessly to pain.
It was fun to walk around in a party dress. She climbed the attic steps in high heels and explored the dusty boxes full of memories—her mother's childhood things, her uncles' old hobby items, even some of Josie's baby clothes—she discovered a trove of her grandmother's vintage outfits in a shabby old dresser. The stories about Grandma being a daring girl back in the '60s came flooding back as Josette admired a risqué corset set.
Before she knew it, she was lacing herself into the corset. Suddenly she was looking at a stranger in the mirror-- a sultry saloon girl from a Western movie, ready to sashay through a barroom full of dangerous men with smoking guns and smoldering eyes. She struck pose after pose as a corset girl, wondering why modern women had abandoned such an evocative garment. In a way, it was sexier than a bikini, since a beach girl was brazenly inviting everyone in the world to look at her. But a corset girl lived in a place that was warm, dark, private, and secret.
She struck pose after pose as a corset girl, wondering why modern women had abandoned such an attractive type of garment.
The afternoon was a haze of costume changes. At one point, she even ventured downstairs wearing just a bra and panties, her heart racing at the fantasy of being seen. She could guess how a boy would be left short of breath if he saw her like that.
Only the knowledge that her grandparents would return by suppertime made her get back into modest jeans and a simple shirt. She straightened up everything he had left in a mess. When she went to sit down in the TV room waiting for them, Josette was already wishing she had more hot, girly things to dress up in.
When her grandparents left her no private time the next day, she felt frustrated, wishing they would go out together again. She enjoyed a daydream of strutting down city streets, wearing things straight out of Tiffany Malloy's wardrobe.
She wondered what it would feel like to have people looking at her decked out like a hot-looking girl. Unable to contain her curiosity, she made up an excuse about going to a movie and drove into town wearing a shirt and slacks combo again, for the benefit of her grandparents. But in the back seat, she had a couple of bags of clothing.
The public downtown restroom became her transformation chamber. Josette's hands trembled as she changed into a mini dress and pumps with two-inch heels—she was almost ready to handle three inches after diligent practice but didn’t want to fall in public.
She didn’t understand why it thrilled her to be showing off girl legs as a girl when Loren had felt nothing like that when wearing shorts. Why did she feel special having a Maidenform bra and Rio-style panties as foundational garments?
She’d learned a few things by watching YouTube makeup tutorials on the sly. She was surprised how picture perfect she looked. It crossed her mind that maybe Josie’s hands still remembered how to apply makeup the right way. With her heart hammered against her rib cage, she left the lady’s room.
She gripped her purse strap in a vise when strangers glanced her way. Part of her wanted to run away and put on something else. Another part of her being wondered whether people were thinking that she was pretty.
Loren had known about Claudette's Boudoir in the Licksville mall from back from earlier city visits. It was one of those lingerie shops that had stolen Victoria's Secret's thunder after that chain went woke. Loren had liked to look at hot lingerie and imagine real-life girls wearing it, but there was a social stigma about boys browsing in a lingerie shop. Looking the way she did, no one blamed her twice for admiring the incredible outfits on the store manikins.
"Can I help you find anything?" The sales clerk's warm smile held none of the suspicion Loren would have faced.
Josette said she was just browsing. She hadn't planned to buy anything, but with the salesgirl’s encouragement, wound up being be tape-measured. When she left the shop, she was carrying a bag full of lacy, skimpy things.
It made her pulse race to think about thinking, trying them on when her grandparents were out, and taking more selfie pictures. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She'd walked into a lingerie shop, handled all kinds of sexy little doodads, and had even tried on a few of them. But instead of coming at him like a potential sex offender, people had treated her like a welcome normal customer.
Her adrenaline high was making her head spin. She next treated herself to lunch at a café. But crossing the dining area wearing two-inch heels tripped her up-–literally. When she grabbed at a table to break her fall, it tipped over. She smacked down hard on the tiles. What she felt most was how her face burned, while the other diners stared.
"I'm so sorry!" she gasped to the staff as they rushed up to help. The manager was unjudgemental and polite, but the teen fled the café as soon as no one was looking, her appetite forgotten.
Trying to shake off the embarrassment, Josette wandered into a boutique and a mannequin wearing a slinky backless dress caught her eye. It was the kind of dress that she wished all the pretty girls wore. She was still staring when a familiar voice made her freeze.
"That would look be an absolute killer on you, Josie. Are you going to try it on?"
Behind her stood a girl she recognized. It was the same Amber from the cheer squad at Westbrook High. Heat flooded Josette’s face.
"Oh, I don’t know…." she stammered.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Amber raised her hand to signal a salesgirl. "Try it on. I insist!"
Before Josette could form a coherent protest, she was wearing the hot black number in front of the boutique's three-way mirror. Behind her, Amber bounced with enthusiasm. When Josette settled down enough to look — really look—at her reflection, Josette saw a pretty girl dressed in a way that would have made Loren's pulse race.
"Buy it!" Amber urged.
“I’ve just started shopping,” Josette protested. “I’m not a money pit and I might find something I like even better before I’m done today.”
Amber shrugged. "Suite yourself. Come on, my favorite place to eat is near here.”
“Do you come to Licksville often?” Josette asked to change the subject.
“My mother visits her home office here a lot and I sometimes travel with her. I like small cities better than large ones. Don’t you?”
“I guess I do,” said Josette.
#
Over yogurt and salads, Amber regaled Josette with horror stories about boyfriend drama. Josette bristled inwardly at the way she was talking down boys, but Loren always had enjoyed his rare chances of keeping company with pretty girls. The downside was that Amber was spewing heavy-duty girl-talk, which Loren found uninteresting and hard to listen to.
"You have to come out with me and Steve this weekend!" Amber leaned forward, her yogurt forgotten. "We're hitting the roller rink with the gang on Friday night. And Brad has been asking about you.”
“Brad?”
“He likes you!” She punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.
Josette managed a weak smile. The thought of being pawed by some handsy boy made her skin crawl. "I won’t be back in Westbrook until a couple days before school starts, Amber. Thanks, but my grandparents have Friday night plans for us," she said carefully.
#
That evening, back in the country, Josette collapsed onto her bed, exhausted by the day's emotional roller coaster. She wanted to kick herself for stumbling at lunch, but she'd also experienced a stroll into a whole new world. It was so weird.
Everyone she had met had treated her like something special. People treated girls differently than they did boys. But the words from the magic instruction sheet continued to haunt her—the oil didn't just transform bodies, it awakened feminine emotions too. It was bad enough to have to look like a girl, but Josette didn’t want to have anything to do with feeling and thinking like a girl, too.
At dinner, she gave her grandparents the sanitized version of her day before retreating to her room. In bed that night, she couldn’t stop replaying the moments of being treated as an attractive girl.
Oddly, what memories Josette half liked best were the same ones that had made Loren cringe.
Josette soon dropped off, already planning her next adventure.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FOUR
